What little time we have
by redvelvetscissors
Summary: One-shot. What drove Ted and Tracy back to the Farhampton Inn in 2024, and the realisation that every second is precious.


The house was beginning to feel like it wasn't theirs after two months of horrified disbelief. The air was suffocating, the colours of the walls and floors and ceilings not as bright as they used to be. Luke and Penny, once bringing light and life to the house, persisted in being a constant reminder of what they were all soon to lose.

After only four painfully short years of marriage, Ted Moseby and Tracy McConnell should have been in their own personal world of bliss, living with their two beautiful children, wise beyond their years, in a house practically built up from scratch by Ted's determined hands. Saturday trips to the city should have taken them to the Hard Rock Café, Madison Square Garden or Central Park for baseball, not St Marcus' Hospital. The bathroom should have held cupboards bursting with fruit-scented no more tears shampoo, not ever-growing stacks of medication. Tracy, so youthful and chirpy just a few months before was now tired and delicate, if still endlessly happy.

It was nearly December of 2024 when a mammoth snow storm hit the East Coast. Snuggled up beside the fire under a multitude of blankets, cocoa in matching mugs from the kids the previous Christmas, Ted kissed his wife gently, savouring the feel of her wispy hair against his nose. Each moment like that since they had been given the devastating news that Ted would soon lose his treasured wife, he had struggled to keep the silent tears at bay. Every day she was his beacon, a ray of light that was endlessly hopeful that kept the darkness out of his mind.

Silently, he began to imagine, for the millionth time, what his world was going to look like in too short a time. No time would ever be enough with Tracy, but he had always expected more than they had. His thoughts were shadowed by stabbing loneliness and anger, until Tracy's melodious voice broke through it.

"Hey, Sweetie?"

"Yeah, honey?" Ted replied, stroking the hair out of her face.

"Let's go away this weekend." She said, sitting up gently. Ted helped her, smiling sadly as she took his hand.

"Really? Where?" Ted asked, surprised at her suggestion.

"The Farhampton Inn." She was sure of herself, obviously having thought very carefully about this trip. They hadn't been back since the night before Luke was born, but it held special resonance for them, and Tracy had suggested that they go back for their five-year anniversary. Agony was the only word to describe what Ted felt when he remembered this, and suspected that was her motivation for asking.

"Of course, honey. I'm sure Marshall and Lily will watch the kids. Let's do it." He smiled, not the sad, mournful smile that had been plastered across his face each day since Tracy's time was cut short, but a smile of pure joy.

Squeezing Tracy's hands, he rose from the couch, leaving her there sipping her cocoa, and picked up the phone, detailing plans and timings to Marshall, who had also been treading on eggshells the past few months. He heartily agreed. Ted hung up, and dialled another number.

"Honey, Marshall and Lily can watch Luke and Penny. I'll make us a reservation."

"Already done," Tracy giggled, stretching out her hand to drag Ted back to the couch. In silence, they sat, Tracy wrapped up in Ted's arms, peaceful and calm.

The clock struck eleven after only a few minutes, the outside world was being battered by snow and ice and sleet, but the inside was tranquil. As eleven turned to midnight, Tracy snored softly in Ted's arms, breathing heavily. Warm tears fell in tracks down Ted's cheeks, falling onto his sleeve wrapped gently around his wife. The realisation that all of this bliss, the love of his life and the one who completed his soul would be gone, buried and lost forever in a heartbeat made his chest tighten, his eyes blur from grief.

"I love you," he whispered into her hair.

…

On Friday night, bags packed and loaded into the trunk of their car, Ted drove his wife to the Farhampton Inn. It was just how they left it, pure and untouched by the grief of real life. For them, the memory of their first meeting, unsullied, remained in this place.

Getting out of the car, Tracy led her husband up the front steps, grinning as they slipped through the front door and strolled up to the check-in desk.

"Well! If it isn't…this guy. Told you you'd find someone to take up to the lighthouse." Evidently, the Farhampton Inn left little room for career progression as the grizzled little man who had, ten years before, denied Ted access to the lighthouse, greeted them that night.

"Yes, yes, I found her," Ted said, smiling through the pang of grief.

"He found me!" Tracy squealed, wrapping her arms around his waist. The clerk laughed awkwardly, handing them a set of keys. They thanked him and ascended the three flights of stairs to their room, collapsing onto the bed. Ted placed their suitcases into the corner, sliding onto the bed next to his wife.

"I love you," he murmured, kissing her gently on the forehead.

"I love you, too," she replied, gazing into his sad eyes and smiling forlornly. Noticing threatening tears, she laid a hand on his arm.

"Hey, no, hey!" she said softly. "It's okay. Let's go down for a drink, okay?"

"Okay," Ted croaked, rising and straightening his sweater.

Making their way downstairs, they took two large sofa-style seats around a small table and ordered some cocoa – their favourite drink. So many times they'd shared a warm mug of cocoa on a cold Winter's night in their house in Westchester.

"Tell me a story," Tracy asked, laying back in her chair, vacant eyes closed through pain. Ted stroked her hand with his thumb, nodding slowly.

"Okay, uh, how about 'Where does that Door go?'"

"No, I know that one!" Tracy groaned. Ted laughed, sipping his drink.

"Uh, Marshall shaving his hair off at his wedding?"

"Nope."

"Okay," Ted said, thinking deeply. "How about the day before Robin and Barney's wedding?"

"No, I don't think I know that one," Tracy replied. Ted, grinning, launched into the story.

…

The next day, as his wife slept, Ted thought.

' _Don't be the man who lives in his stories'_ his wife had said last night. This is exactly what he feared that, when his wife was gone and he was left alone with his kids, he could not be himself. His stories, the times in his life where he was in love or happy or even frightened, that all turned out okay in the end, were something he could cling to in a situation that would never turn out okay.

She had said 'what mother misses her daughter's wedding', flippantly in the midst of reminiscing. He had tried to hold it together, for her, always for her. But the knowledge that she would, and maybe her daughter's first day of middle school, her son's first girlfriend, her grandchildren, had been too much for Ted. The moment she comforted him until his tears dried was the first moment in a long time that they had mentioned their short future together.

No amount of time was ever enough, but four years of marriage was gut-wrenchingly short. If he could have had those extra forty-five days, he would have done anything for them. If he could have even one more second with her, he would bleed to make that happen.

But now was all the time they had.

And he was going to cherish it.

With a kiss, he woke her up.


End file.
